


Bruises and Barfights

by Kiki0_0



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Big Brother Dean, Gen, Hurt Sam, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6277438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiki0_0/pseuds/Kiki0_0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean were fresh off a case dealing with an outbreak of werewolves and need more money. They decide to go out hustling for a bit, asuming nothing could go wrong. But when a guy can't take a hint, things go very wrong for one Sam Winchester. Luckily for him, he has one very protective older brother. </p><p>Based on a prompt located in the notes at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruises and Barfights

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I saw this prompt pretty late last night and just went with it. I have not read this since I finished it in the middle of the night. I have no idea how many mistakes are in here, so if you see any, feel free to point them out to me in the comments. Constructive critism is always welcome.
> 
> On another note, this ended up being _way_ longer than I initially intended... I also suck at endings, and I apologize if this one is as bad as I think it is.
> 
> Warnings: Attempted rape/non con and bad language.
> 
> Set somewhere is season one.

It had been nearly fifteen minutes and Dean was still laughing. 

The bastard. 

Dean found it hilarious. _“Look at you, Sammy. Say goodbye to being a lady’s man; you’re a man’s lady now.”_

Sam tried to pull a bitch face, but he was too flustered.

They had been sitting in the bar for about half an hour, not hustling yet, but rather having a few beers and subtly checking out the competition. They were between hunts at the moment. In fact, it had only been approximately eight hours since they finished up there last hunt: Another werewolf. The damn things seemed to be everywhere recently, and the hunting community had no idea what to make of it. 

Sam sighed, remembering just how much research he still has to do. 

That was actually the reason they had come in the first place. Dean had been bored, bored of research and bored of Sam researching all the time. Sam had suggested that he go out and hustle for a bit, get them some money. They could use it, as they barely even managed to pay for a couple of nights at the motel they currently lived in. 

What a life.

Somehow, in this discussion, Dean had managed to trick Sam into coming. He had no idea how it even happened. He remembered Dean whining - no matter how many times Dean denies it, it was whining - petulantly about not having anyone to cover his six, and how Sam was going to destroy his eyes if he kept staring at his laptop all day, and how ergonomically awful laptop keyboards were, and that Sam was going to fry his brain if he researched for any longer. Sam is pretty sure there was more yet. He thought he also remembered Dean using the fact that he hadn’t moved all day as another point to his argument. 

Still, he has no idea how Dean managed to get him into the Impala and to some dumpy bar one town over in the fifteen minutes that he can’t recall. One thing was for sure, his older brother could be persistent when he wanted something. 

And what he wanted right now was for his little brother to relax for a bit, take a break from reading about lunar cycles and werewolf packs and other lore of wolf-related creatures. Seriously, how could he be related to such a geek?

As Sam sat there, mind moving a mile a minute, thinking about research patterns, he had hardly noticed when some guy sat down beside him.

Sam squirmed a little in his seat, wondering why the guy couldn’t sit somewhere else. It wasn’t like the bar was that full. In fact, quite the opposite. There were a few college kids - some of which didn’t look like they were legal age - sitting near the back, taking up two booths and one of the pool tables. Sam knew this because both he and Dean had already singled the out as good hustling targets, as they seemed cocky and loaded. And then there was an older man sitting alone, two women that seemed a little more than tipsy on the other end of the bar, a group of gruff men and women that just screamed _‘biker gang’_ near the front, and a few more faceless patrons around. None of which were at the bar or occupying all the booths. This guy could have easily moved over one to seven seats at the bar and still not be sitting next to anyone. 

Sam took a deep breath. Maybe the guy was just ordering, and would leave soon. Or maybe he was just trying to conserve space, thinking that more people were going to come to the bar, and wanted to make sure they had room to sit together. 

“Hello, I’m Jake,” the guy spoke, reaching out his hand to Sam.

So much for that theory. 

“Hi,” Sam replied curtly, nodding to the guy and pretending not to see his outstretched hand. 

Maybe the guy was just overly friendly and wanted to chat, or play a game of pool with someone. Sam looked around discreetly. Dean and him were the only people around their age, it appeared. Maybe the guy noticed that too. Either way, Sam was in a piss poor mood and was not entirely interested in making friends right now. 

It’s not like any of the friends he made lived very long anyways. 

To be completely honest, Sam just wanted to drink a couple of beers, get a little buzzed, and sleep in the Impala, as he wouldn’t let Dean drive home if he had too much to drink. Hey, who knew, maybe Dean wasn’t planning on drinking too much tonight, seeing as he planned on hustling. However, he already told Sam straight up that he expected him to get drunk tonight. He also said that if possible, and he didn’t care who, he expected Sam to try to get laid. 

Of course, as per usual, Sam had rolled his eyes with a “jerk” tossed in his brother’s direction. He wasn’t disappointed, of course, and Dean replied with his usual “bitch” before continuing on. 

“Seriously, Sam. You need to let loose a little. I know you don’t want to talk about it, and that you think you are ‘fine’, but you’re not. Get drunk. Let go for a bit. I’ll watch your back.”

Sam knew his brother was concerned. And he also knew he wasn’t ‘fine’, but who could be fine after seeing their lover burst into flames on their shared ceiling?

Sam shook himself out of his thoughts. Even though it had been a few months now, the more he dwelled on it, the drunker he was going to get, and he didn’t actually want to get drunk tonight. 

Back to the point, the guy beside Sam apparently wasn’t letting up that easily, and even seemed to get closer while Sam was lost in thought. 

_Geez, doesn’t this guy have any regard for personal space?_

Sam turned to his left - away from the uncomfortably close guy, and towards his brother - hoping to ask him if they could move because this guy was making him uneasy, only to see an empty barstool.

Just great. Dean was gone, and Sam had no one to help make an excuse to move. Sam couldn’t be rude and just get up; it wasn’t in his nature. He couldn’t offend this guy, who was probably a great person. If Sam weren’t in such a bad mood, he probably would have chatted with the guy, made small talk and pretended he didn’t slaughter monsters on a daily basis. But he wasn’t, and the guy was only making him more moody it would seem.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” the guy tried again.

Sam internally sighed. There was no escaping it; he had to be social for a bit. At least until Dean came back from wherever he was, that is. 

What he wanted to say was, _“That’s because I didn’t tell it to you”_ , but what he really said was this, “Sorry; my name’s Sam.” He even put on a friendly smile to go with it. See what a great person he is today?

“Nice to meet you, Sam.” The guy extended his hand again, and this time Sam shook it. The man grasped his hand a little too tight and held the shake a little too long. But Sam was still convinced this was his bad mood over-analyzing everything. “What’s a guy like you doing here all alone?”

Sam turned bright red. Was the guy flirting with him? No. No, of course not. Of course he wasn’t flirting with him. Sam was just being stupid. 

Sam stuttered out his answer. “No. I-uh-I’m not-not here alone. I mean, no. I mean, I am here with my brother.”

_A+, Sam Winchester, A+._

“Oh? I don’t see him. Don’t tell me he left you here all by yourself for better company, because he isn’t going to find any around here.”

“No. I mean, I think he just went to the restroom or something.” Sam took a sip of his drink, hoping it would make his tongue feel less awkward in his mouth and help him stop being so flustered.

“Well then, while I have you alone I might as well buy you a drin-”

“No,” Sam blurted out, incidentally cutting the man off. “I mean, like, it is nice of you to offer and all, but I’m good. I think I’ll just wait for my brother.”

The man seemed like he was shocked for a moment, and then switched to a pondering face before he continued. He leaned in real close to Sam’s ear, making him shiver uncomfortably and try to pull away. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like guys, but even if this were a girl, he wouldn’t like this at all. 

“I can guarantee I can give you a much better time than your brother, sweetheart,” the man breathed against his neck.

And then something great happened, and Sam had never been so happy to hear his brother’s voice before. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything here, fellas.”

The man quickly pulled away from Sam and looked up to see who actually _did_ interrupt something, thank you very much.

“Sam,” the blonde haired interloper greeted, completely ignoring Jake. “Sorry to break things up here, but I was wondering if you would be cool with moving to a booth? Damn barstools hurt my ass too much.”

Sam sputtered out a, “yeah, yeah sure, Dean,” and nodded way too many times as he stood. He was more than happy to oblige, and left without saying goodbye to the man beside him. 

And now Dean wouldn’t stop laughing at Sam’s reddened face. 

“I know I said I didn’t care who got you laid, but I still didn’t see that one coming, Sammy. Tell me, did he want you to top, or bottom?” Dean teased.

Sam groaned. “I don’t even want to know why you know so much about same sex...sex, I guess. Besides, I never pinned you as homophobic, Dean.”

“No, not homophobic, just my-baby-brother-in-bed-with-that-man-aphobic,” Dean grinned.

“Bite me.”

“Get your boyfriend to do it for me.”

“Ugh,” Sam groaned and pressed his face against the surprisingly clean table that sat between Dean and himself.

Dean looked towards the bar with a chuckle at his brother's dramatics. Sure, he wouldn’t care if his brother really was into the guy. Hell, who would even have the right to care? Even if anyone did, it wouldn’t be Dean. He slept with anything that human and female. The fun part of all of this was that Sam wasn’t into one night stands, and got all flustered when Dean talked about his ‘night life’, or lack thereof. The fact that someone had come onto Sam that strongly was making him all uncomfortable, and what kind of sibling doesn’t love that? 

“Hey, Sammy, I think he’s lookin’ for you,” Dean said as he saw the man still sitting at the bar, but looking around. 

Dean nearly burst out laughing once again when, as soon as Sam lifted his head to look if Dean was lying to him, the man winked at Sam. With all the courage he could muster, he managed to keep his laughter in until the strange man looked away. 

“Oh, Sammy, he is quite a character.”

Sam just groaned. 

Dean stopped laughing instantly when the man got up from his booth and walked over to them.

“Just couldn’t keep your eyes off me, could ya gorgeous,” the man asked smugly as he plopped himself down beside Sam. 

Suddenly, Dean didn’t find this as funny anymore. In fact, he started glaring daggers into the man’s skull, wondering if he could develope powers that made people go away in seconds. 

No?

Fine then, he will have to do it the old fashioned way. 

“Dude, do you mind? I’m trying to have a drink with my brother, and I don’t remember either of us inviting you.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up, and he whispered something in Sam’s ear. Sam just looked really, really uncomfortable. 

“Seriously dude,” Dean said a little louder, a little more harshly this time around. “Scram.”

The man huffed out a breath and got up. He might have said, “fine”, but Dead wasn’t sure. 

This time, Dean didn’t laugh, didn’t tease Sam. In fact, he just pretended it didn’t happen.

“C’mon, Sammy. Let’s make like sharks, and go play some pool.”

“It’s Sam.”

“Sure, sure.”

And balance was restored. 

An hour and about a hundred bucks profit later, the man was nowhere in sight. It appeared as though he found a more interested playmate for the night, Dean mused. 

However, he had a new problem; Sam seemed a little off his game. His little brother had managed to lose a little over thirty bucks last game, and wasn’t doing so hot this time around either. 

So Dean did what he had to. He told his little brother to go to the bathroom, clear his head, shake it off, and come back when he was a little more sober. Geez, the kid was a lightweight. Dean had almost forgotten, in the time spent apart while Sam was at college, how little the kid could drink. Despite Dean’s earlier promise that he could get drunk, he wasn’t even sure if Sam had finished his second beer. 

Despite these facts, the kid was slurring his words, tripping over himself, and blinking more than necessary. At first Dean had thought it was an act, but now he wasn’t so sure. If it was an act, Dean was going to find a way to buy him a fake Oscar. Because the college kids that had come in cocky and asked them to play with them were actually cool when Dean told them Sam was a little too drunk for his comfort and asked if he could play in his place. Now Dean was up two hundred more bucks from finishing that game. That, combined with whatever Sam had one, and his winnings from playing with the group of teenagers before this group, would be enough to get them to the next job. 

Now he had _another_ problem. Sam had yet to come back from the bathroom. 

Shit. Dean hadn’t even noticed how long it had been until now. It had been over twenty minutes since he had sent his little brother to clear his head. In all circumstances, he should have been back by now. 

Something was up.

Thoughts of Sam, passed out in one of the stalls, choking on his own vomit, or even kidnapped because he hustled a demon or something equally stupid filled his head. What? It was all possible with their luck. 

Winchester luck was worse than bad luck. 

Dean managed to stop himself from running and bursting into the bathroom, knowing that just might draw too much attention to himself. Instead he excused himself from the next game to go check on his brother, and everyone seemed totally cool with it. 

Man, he wished everyone he hustled was this easy to get along with. But then again, maybe it was best that the people he usually hustled were assholes. 

He walked - like the non-panicked person he wasn’t - to the washrooms where he had sent his little brother. It was empty. 

_Dammit Sammy, what did you get yourself into this time?_

Dean checked around the bathroom to no avail. He stood back, scratching his head in frustration when he saw it. 

The emergency exit door wasn’t fully shut. 

There was a small rock stopping the door from shutting entirely, making sure that people could open and close it without the alarm going off. 

“Sonofabitch,” Dean growled as he the door opened without a sound. 

He quickly pushed open the door, which lead to the alley beside the craphole of a bar he had picked for the night of hustling. 

_Come out, come out, wherever you are you little brother stealing bastard_ , he mentally called.

He was just debating where said brother stealing bastard would have headed when he heard it: A small whimper. And then all the big brother senses he had ignited. 

Someone was going to die, because that was definitely Sammy. That pitiful little noise was brought from his little, naive brother. Nope, someone was dead. 

He followed tiny whimpers and tiny “no”s until he found the right turn in the maze of alleyways. 

He saw red.

There, pressed against a filthy dumpster, was his baby brother, who he raised since he was six months old, who he loved and cherished his entire life, who kept him going when he wanted to give up. There he was, with the man he hadn’t deemed a threat, who he had let go with nothing more than a warning, pressed against him. 

He could hear the man’s moans of pleasure. It made him sick.

“See, Sammy. I knew you would enjoy this. You love it and you know it. Such a tease. Such a pretty body underneath all these layers. Why hide all this, Sammy?” the man breathlessly asked.

The still nameless man had stripped Sam of his jacket and button up. He was in the process of slowly removing his t-shirt while running his filthy hands all over the helpless boy’s chest. 

Sam was whimpering and making tiny sobbing noises, trying valiantly to push the man off of him to no avail. He kept up a constant litany of, “No, please. No, stop. Please stop,” in a tiny, weak voice. 

The man was just chuckling and Dean was no longer frozen in his spot when he saw that the man had his hand on Sam’s-

No, nope. Not even going there. This had to stop. It had to stop right the fuck now. 

Dean grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt and slammed him against the unyielding brick wall behind them. 

“What the fuck do you think you are doing you Goddam perv?” Dean raged as he threw punch after punch towards the man’s face, stomach, sides, and just about everywhere. “Do you not hear him? Are you stupid? He said _no_ , you jackass!” 

Dean kept the punches flying. Even when the man stopped trying to fight back and fell to the ground, he kept on punching him, straddling his chest and beating his face. 

“You don’t do that. You don’t get to touch my brother. You don’t even get to _look_ at my brother, perv.”

He realized his words weren’t all that creative, but he was too far gone in a firey rage to care.

He kept hitting and kicking until he heard it. 

“Please,” the man begged. “Please stop.”

“Did you stop when Sam asked you to? No, you just kept going. You _laughed_ at him.” Dean spit in front of the beaten man. “You make me sick, you know that? Sick to my freaking stomach.”

Dean took off the man's jacket and watched as his eyes widened in panic.

“Don’t get excited,” Dean growled. “Just wanted your ID. I can see the cops being very excited when I give them this, along with a few other things, whether fake or real, that my buddies can get; I get the feeling this isn’t the first time you have done something like this.”

“No, no please. I can give you money. This can just go away,” the man wheezed through bloody lips. In fact, it seemed like not a single piece of the man wasn’t covered in blood.

Dean was stuck. He wanted to beat the man more. Damn, he wanted to beat the man more. But he knew that should he continue, the man - Jake, if his ID was accurate - would die, and Dean couldn’t afford that. He would call someone, maybe even Bobby. It didn’t matter that it had been ages, he knew the man would help him out. He would make sure on Jake Stewart paid full price for what he did. 

He was drawn out of his musings when he heard another soft whimper that sounded something like Dean’s name.

Shit. Sammy.

“Hey, hey,” Den cooed. “It’s alright, Sammy. I’m right here. He’s gone. Shh.”

Sam was curled up against the dumpster he was previously pinned to. His legs were pulled to his chest with his arms around himself and his head buried in his knees. His whole body was shaking, from shock or the freezing cold, Dean wasn’t sure. He was sure that the rain that seemed to be starting wasn’t helping any. 

“Hey, Sammy. Let's get you to the Impala, huh? I promise it will be real warm in there and I will even let you pick the music,” he promised half-heartedly. Sam just looked so fragile, like he would break any moment, and Dean would be damned if he let that happen. 

But Sam was a thinker - an over-thinker at that. He took everything to heart and this was bound to be included. Damn kid wore his heart on his sleeve, and Dean hated seeing when it got him hurt. 

Then Sam looked up, and Dean’s heart broke a little bit. 

Sad, wet eyes looked up from behind shaggy brown hair. He flinched when thunder sounded through the sky and scooted closer to Dean. 

“Hey, it’s alright. C’mon.” Dean helped his little brother to his feet. Dean put his arm around Sam’s waist, quickly picking up his shirts and draping them over his chilled torso. They began to walk slowly to the Impala, which seemed so far away now, with Dean murmuring soothing words the whole way.

Dean made sure to throw an extra kick Jake’s way when they passed him on their journey. 

They made it back to the Impala in what felt like a year, but in actuality was only a few minutes. Dean got his brother situated in the passenger seat, tucking his ridiculously long legs into the car before getting behind the wheel and starting up the Impala. 

It was then that he finally got a good look at Sam’s condition.

The kid’s had the beginnings of what was promising to be an impressive shiner, paired with bruising along his jaw and going down his neck.

Oh.

_Oh._

Sam was not going to do well with that. Of all the sadistic things the man could have done, he had to mark Sam’s neck. He had to put his vile mouth on his brother’s neck and suck _marks_ on his skin. 

He should have killed the bastard.

It was clear that something was wrong with Sam. Dean’s first thought was concussion, and he grabbed his flashlight from the glove compartment to check Sam’s pupils. Sure enough, they were blown wide. The only thing that was odd was that they were very reactive to light, and even in dilation. 

HIs brother wasn’t concussed, he was drugged. Well, he may well be slightly concussed as well - he did have an unpleasantly large bump on the back of his head - but he was definitely drugged. 

That would explain a few things. The kid wasn’t drunk earlier, he was just feeling the effect of the drugs. The creep, Jake, must have attacked Sam in there, and it was clear that Sam put up a fight. 

Atta boy, Sammy, Dean silently praised. 

Soon enough, the Impala pulled up in front of Home’s Comforts, the motel they currently called home. By this time, Sam was fast asleep in the passenger seat, and Dean groaned. How the hell was he supposed to wake up his brother when he looked so peaceful? Not to mention how few hours of rest the little shit got these days. He was always bad at waking up his brother, even when they were kids. Sam just looked so young in his sleep, like he was four years old still and asking Dean if their dad was a superhero. 

Man, how Dean wished his dad were there instead of hunting God knows where. Getting a text was one thing, but he missed talking face-to-face with his father. He missed when his dad would at least pick up his calls. 

Now he had no one to call, and a hurt little brother. 

All he had wanted was to get Sam to loosen up a bit, take his mind off hunting the thing that killed Jessica and some weird ass werewolves. Just one night to spend some time getting to know the new Sam, the one he hadn’t seen while he was in college, and hustle up some money together. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was.

Dean finally mustered up the courage to shake his brother’s shoulder and muttered his name a few times. It took approximately seven shakes and four times calling his name before Sam moaned and opened his eyes.

“Hey, little brother. I’m gonna get you inside, but you need to help me out a little bit here, bro. I can’t carry you anymore because you turned into a sasquatch when you turned eighteen.”

Sam’s only response was a groan, and Dean frowned in concern. Sam wasn’t with him at all.

Dean climbed out of the car and walked around it, opening the passenger door and stopping Sam from falling out as he did so. He hauled his brother up and placed his arm around his waist, forcing his brother to put his arm around his neck. He half carried, half dragged his pliant little sibling into the motel room before dumping him on the bed farthest from the door. 

“Really, Sam. You’re gonna make me dress you too? You know what? Fine. I’ll help you out.”

Dean took off Sam’s boots and socks, tossing them in the direction of the door. He then managed to tug Sam’s jeans off of his unnaturally long legs and toss them as well. In a way, he was kind of happy that Sam was so out of it, or he would have been freaking out at this point. 

Sam seemed to be falling asleep quickly, which Dean blamed on the drugs in his system. He lifted Sam’s legs for a moment and pulled the comforter and sheet out from under him. Though he would never admit to it, he tucked his brother in gently before getting ready for bed himself. 

“Dean,” his brother moaned and twisted under his blankets. 

“Shh, Sammy. It’s alright. I’m here.”

“No, Dean. Figured it out. Know why the weres are so many,” he continued, slurring his words. “It’s the pattern. Like witch trials. Same thing with wolves.”

Dean shook his head. His little brother was making no sense. 

“Like with the-the witch outbreaks,” his brother murmured as if in a feverish state.

Then it clicked. Every year around the time the old witch trials took place, there is always an outbreak of witches in those areas. Maybe Sam was saying it was the same with wolves. Maybe there had been werewolf trails in these areas a few hundred years ago, and that was the cause of the outbreak. 

“Okay, Sammy. You got it, bro. It’s okay now. Just relax and go to sleep.

He would never admit that he brushed his hand through Sam’s hair to get it out of his eyes. He would also never admit what he said after that. It would be way too chick-flicky for the mighty Dean Winchester to say. Nobody would believe it anyways. 

“We’ll get through this, little brother. I know we will. We’re Winchesters.”

He said it like the simple fact that they had the same last name meant everything, like it was an invaluable thing. 

He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. The very fact that Sam had managed to distance his mind enough to figure out their case was a bad sign He remembered Sam used to do that when they were teenagers as well. Their dad would be throwing a fit, yelling and cursing up a storm, and sometimes Sam would argue back, but sometimes he would just stare out into the distance and say nothing. After a while, their dad would storm out with a huff, probably to go find a bar for the night. As soon as Dean would ask if he was alright, Sam would have figured out everything relating to their current case, or even found a pattern to a new case. It was a coping mechanism. When Sam just couldn’t handle being their any longer, he would hide in his freaky brain and put together patterns and puzzles. 

The little geek found it relaxing or something. 

From that alone, Dean knew that Sam was going to be in rough shape, maybe even denial for a bit. He was only happy he got there in time. Of course, that didn’t make things any less traumatic. 

But he would be there through it all. Because they were Winchesters, and that was the answer to everything.

It was the only answer he had.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this prompt by anonymous user on Tumblr:
> 
> _I don’t know why but I’ve really been wanting to read a fic about protective angry dean not from a hunt but by some sleazy guy at a bar that keeps hitting on Sam. No wincest just brotherly love please I just want to see the guy start to come onto sam who becomes increasingly flustered and politely declines with dean teasing him about it but then stops when the guy takes things too far and maybe drugs sam which dean doesn’t know yet and why isn’t Sam fighting him off since he could mop the floor with him? The perv and sam mysteriously disappear while dean is distracted for a second and finds them in the back alley with the guy trying to undress sam and groping him while poor Sammy can do nothing but take it. Cue furious dean and a brutal beating and afterwards caring protective dean and of course slightly scared puppy dog eyed sam with lots of h/c. Preferably set in season 1 when sam still looks so much younger._


End file.
